Bidding us twain upon thy glory call.
Harsh light hath rent from us the golden pall
Of that frail sleep, His first light seigniory,
And we are come through all the modes that fall
Unto their lot who meet him constantly.
ยท
Bidding us twain upon thy glory call.
Harsh light hath rent from us the golden pall
Of that frail sleep, His first light seigniory,
And we are come through all the modes that fall
Unto their lot who meet him constantly.
“Had I not yoyoed away my time in school reading Herodotus, Saint-Simon, Rilke, and Owen Wister, seeking answers to the mystery of personality and the riddle of history, I would not have failed to become an intelligent and informed buyer of goods and services. It’s as simple as that.”
Donald Barthelme | “Down the Line with the Annual”